“I just got a call from Hunter,” she said. “He told me to come out there. They’re fighting. Cara was screaming in the background. It sounded like she was accusing Hunter of murder. They said something about a gun.”
“Hang on a minute,” he said, tersely.
She heard him relaying this to Daltrey, who gave a short reply.
“We’re on our way to the coroner’s office right now,” he said. “I’ll call Tybee P.D. and get a local unit out there.”
“I’m going, too,” she said. “I need to see what’s happening.”
“Harper, don’t do that,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s my job,” she reminded him, although she knew Baxter wasn’t interested in this story. “I’ll call dispatch and let them know. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“The roads are a mess. Half the streets are flooded.”
“The Tybee highway’s still clear,” she said, stubbornly.
There was a pause. When he spoke again he’d clearly realized there was no point in arguing.
“For God’s sake, be careful,” he told her. “If it gets much worse they’ll close that highway. You could get stuck out there.”
“I will.”
As soon as she hung up, she switched to hands-free and called police dispatch to let them know where she was going. They directed her to a nearby street for an escort.
The next number she dialed was Miles’s. “Get out to Tybee,” she told him. “There’s trouble at Xavier Rayne’s house.”
“Ah, hell,” he complained. “They couldn’t wait until there’s a nice little hurricane to do this?”
“They just called me, screaming about a gun. I’m heading out there now.” He didn’t say anything, but she could sense his reluctance. “Something’s going to happen out there tonight, Miles,” she insisted. “I can sense it.”
He heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll head out there.”
Baxter, when Harper called her a minute later, was even less impressed. “We’ve got a dead FBI agent to deal with and you’re going to babysit a movie star?”
Harper was nearing the marshes by then and the phone began to break up, the signal crumbling from distance and bad weather.
“This is it, Baxter.” She raised her voice to be heard above the crackle. “I can feel it. Someone’s getting arrested tonight. Just hold the front page until you hear from me, okay? Baxter?”
The phone was dead.
Harper didn’t know if the editor had hung up on her or she’d lost the signal. The wind was blowing the car so hard it shimmied. Driving required all her attention now.
This time, no county patrol car met her on the marshes to escort her across. All the deputies were probably too busy dealing with the storm. The road was deserted. Water blew across it like shallow ocean waves. The car’s wide tires sent wide sheets of spray high in the air.
If anything, the weather grew worse as she neared the coast. Even with the wipers at top speed, she could see the highway only in flashes before it disappeared beneath streams of water again. She slowed to twenty miles per hour, and gripped the wheel so tightly her hands ached.
When she finally reached the bridge onto the island, she let out a long, relieved breath. At the first intersection, the traffic light had come loose and swung by a wire, buffeted by the wind. The light was flashing red.
Danger.
Her phone rang as she was navigating cautiously around a fallen tree that had blocked much of the road. She hit answer without looking at it. “McClain.”
“Harper, it’s Luke.”
He said something else, but the signal was terrible. The sound broke apart before she could catch it. “What, Luke?” she raised her voice. “I can’t hear you.”
“Tybee Police … busy … can’t … won’t…”
“You’re breaking up, Luke,” she said.
“Soon … careful.” His voice disappeared.
Harper hit recall, but the phone had no signal at all. She thought she’d got the gist anyway: The local police were tied up with storm damage and couldn’t get to the house right now. She’d be on her own. And she wouldn’t be able to call Savannah if she needed help.
The realization made her stomach tighten. If her suspicions were right, there was a killer in that house. But she couldn’t go back now. Not without knowing the truth.
When she neared the turn for Admiral’s Row, everything was strangely dark. Not a flicker of light came from any window. Every streetlight was out.
A power line must be down, she thought as she turned cautiously into the narrow street. Her headlights were blinding in the pitch-black night. The darkness gave the island an abandoned feel, as if everyone had fled in a panic, leaving behind cars and homes full of belongings. It was eerie.
The trees swayed violently, casting skittering shadows. A frond broke loose from a palm and shot across in front of her car, making her jump.
Harper pulled up behind number 6 and cut the engine. The century-old house sat in absolute darkness, its windows closed and opaque.
Nervousness sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel danger around her. Taste it in the air like salt water.
Putting a hand on her side, she touched the hard metal of the gun and hoped to God she wouldn’t have to use it.
Then she grabbed the door handle and pulled it. The second she stepped out of the Camaro she could hear nothing except the enraged roaring of the wind. She fought to close the door, leaning her weight against it until it finally latched.
Squinting against the rain, she bent forward and ran to the house. At the top of the low steps, she knocked twice, hard.
No one answered.
The wind lashed wet strands of her hair into her eyes as she knocked again, harder this time, shouting into the howl of the storm, “It’s Harper. Are you in there?”
The storm was so loud she almost missed the sound of the gunshot.
Crouching low, she spun around just as Cara stepped out of the darkness, a gun glittering silver in her hand.
Her billowing white dress and flying pale hair gave her the appearance of a vengeful angel as she strode purposefully toward the house.
Harper froze, uncertain whether to run away or try to stop her. In the end, though, Cara made the decision for her, pointing the gun at her chest. “Get out of the way, Harper. I’m going to kill her.” Her voice was steady, but the hand holding the gun trembled visibly.
Harper didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.
“Don’t do it,” she pleaded, holding up her hands. “You don’t have to do this.”
The actress shook her head, rain streaking her face like tears. “She thinks she can just take whatever she wants. Destroy whatever she wants. Because her life has been hard?” She took a sobbing breath. “They both betrayed Xavier and they lied to me. I lived with them and they were murderers. They have to pay.”
At that moment, the door flew open. Hunter stepped out into the rain and took in the scene.
“Jesus Christ, what is this?” He gestured to where Harper was huddling—hands held out as if they could protect her from a bullet. “You’re going to shoot Harper because you’re mad at Allegra?”
“I’m not hurting Harper.” Cara raised the gun toward him. “But I will hurt you if you try to stop me. Where is that cowardly bitch?”
“You can’t do this.” Pale but determined, Hunter didn’t flinch when she jerked the gun at his head. “Killing Allegra won’t bring him back.”
“Stop protecting her,” Cara snapped. “You’re pathetic, you know that? You protect her like she’s a little kid. She’s a murderer. She’s a cheat. She’s insane.”
“She’s insane?” Hunter was incredulous. “You’re standing in the middle of a storm waving a gun at me and a newspaper reporter and Allegra’s the crazy one? Put the gun down, Cara. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She held the gun steady. “The best thing about prison is that I won’t
have to listen to you anymore.”
The wind gusted, pushing her with such force she stumbled, swinging the gun. Harper flinched until she regained control. She could barely stand. If she didn’t kill someone on purpose she might kill them by accident.
She had her own gun, of course. But two guns being waved around wouldn’t make anything better.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward slowly and held out her hands. “Cara, put the gun down. Let’s just talk about this.”
The two of them looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was there.
“You don’t have to kill anyone,” she continued. “Tell the police what you know. Or tell me what you know. Let the law do its job.”
Cara gave a dark laugh. “I’ve been waiting days for the law to do its job. It’s done nothing. And all along I thought some crazy fan killed my boyfriend. Then I figured it out. Do you know what happened, Harper?” She twitched the gun at Hunter. “Did he tell you?”
Hunter started to argue, but she raised the gun to his head.
“Shut up,” she ordered. He closed his mouth again.
“Xavier’s two best friends killed him,” Cara said. “Didn’t they, Hunter?”
“No,” he said firmly. “No, they didn’t.”
“Don’t lie!” she shouted, squeezing the gun convulsively. “You know what you did.”
Giving up on mediation, Harper looked around for escape. She took a step away as the two argued. And another, until she was off to one side—far enough that Cara couldn’t keep the gun trained on both Hunter and her. The actress didn’t seem to notice—she was focused on him, now.
“I’m not lying,” he insisted. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“Sure I do.” Cara’s voice was bitter. “My friend Allegra slept with my boyfriend. She was in love with him. You knew all about it, and decided not to tell me. But I knew something was going on and I demanded to know. Xavier told me he’d been seeing someone else. He promised he’d never sleep with her again. He said he didn’t love her, that he loved only me. The only thing he didn’t tell me is that it was Allegra.” Her voice broke. Harper couldn’t tell if she was crying—the rain was falling too hard. “Then she killed Xavier because her feelings were hurt. Get out here, Allegra, you murderer.” She screamed the last words at the impassive white building behind him.
Harper waited for Hunter to tell her she was wrong. But he didn’t. He just stared at her, his glasses speckled with rain.
“Why are you protecting her?” Cara demanded. “Why won’t you just turn her in?”
“She’s only nineteen, Cara, for God’s sake.” Hunter seemed to think this explained everything. “She can’t go to prison for the rest of her life.”
Cara’s lips twisted. “I was nineteen once. Nobody died.”
Something shifted in the shadows behind her. At first, Harper thought it was just branches swinging. But gradually she made out the shape of a man hidden behind the trees, moving slowly. In his black uniform, he was almost invisible until a flicker of lightning lit up the street and for an instant she saw his face. It was Tom Southby, the officer she’d met the night Xavier Rayne was killed. His eyes were fixed on Cara.
“Allegra!” Cara screamed, pointing the gun at the house. “Stop hiding.”
“Fine. I’m here.” Allegra appeared in the doorway. She looked tiny next to Hunter, almost childlike. Her brown eyes held Cara’s with unnatural calmness. “Just put the gun down. I’ll tell the police the truth.”
Cara clearly hadn’t been expecting this. “I don’t believe you,” she said, but she sounded uncertain.
“You’re going to tell them anyway, and they’ll figure it out.” She glanced at Harper. “And Harper knows now so what’s the point?”
“So, you admit you murdered him,” Cara said.
“It was an accident. I was angry.” Allegra stepped closer to Hunter. “I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“That was no accident. You dumped him in the ocean.” Cara’s voice trembled. “That took effort.”
“It’s just … he was abandoning me like everyone always abandons me.” Allegra stifled a sob, pressing her fists against her eyes. “I wanted him to stay with me. That’s all. I wanted him to care. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“You’re a lying little murderer.” Cara’s voice grew cold. “You killed him because he hurt your feelings. And you have to pay.” She steadied the gun.
Southby jumped from the darkness, landing hard on her back. The blow knocked her off her feet. The gun went off, the retort loud but fleeting, dulled by the wind.
Harper threw herself down.
That was when she heard Allegra cry out. “No!”
Harper lifted her head. Hunter was sliding slowly down the stairs. He clung to the narrow bannister with both hands, but seemed suddenly too weak to grip it.
As she stared in horror, he gave her a look of puzzled disbelief, before collapsing in the mud at her feet.
33
Still held in Southby’s fierce grip, Cara gave a howl of despair that sent goosebumps up Harper’s arms as she knelt at Hunter’s side, putting an arm beneath his thin shoulders.
Trying not to panic, she pressed her hand to his neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, fluttering beneath her fingertips. But his skin was so cold.
Behind her on the front steps, Allegra was hysterical, screaming, “No, no, no.”
Hunter blinked slowly. His lips moved, but no sound came out. A dark stain spread inexorably across the right side of his shirt. It was hard to tell where he’d been shot—it could have been anywhere from the shoulder to the chest.
“Allegra, get me a towel or some cloth,” Harper ordered.
The girl didn’t seem to hear her. She was white as milk, staring at Hunter.
“Allegra.” Harper raised her voice. “Get me a towel.”
Her firmness got through. Giving her a startled look, the girl turned and fled.
Southby talked quickly into his radio before hurrying to her side, leaving Cara where she’d fallen. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Harper said, quietly. “Ambulance?”
“On its way, but this storm…” He didn’t complete the thought, but he didn’t have to.
Carefully, Harper began to open Hunter’s shirt.
“Help me…” he whispered.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said, but she could hear the doubt in her own voice.
Her wet fingers slipped on the buttons and she swore under her breath, ripping the shirt open. Blood mixed with rain on his thin chest and ran in dark rivulets between his ribs. The hole was just below his shoulder.
Allegra dashed out of the house, clutching a white towel like a surrender flag. Snatching it from her, Southby wadded it up and pressed it firmly against the wound, holding it in place with both hands. In the distance Harper thought she heard a siren wail, but the wind blew the sound away.
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” Hunter whispered, looking at Harper. “I’ve been so scared.”
“I know,” she said gently.
Kneeling in the mud beside him, Allegra clung to his hand, her eyes wide with fear. “Don’t die,” she kept whispering, over and over. “Don’t die.”
Harper rested a hand on Hunter’s good arm as Southby kept steady pressure on the wound. “Allegra shot Xavier, didn’t she? She came to you for help. You pushed him out into the ocean. To protect her.”
Hunter’s eyes almost closed, then opened again. A tear escaped and ran down his cheek, mingling with the rain. “She’s just a kid.” A whisper, lost in the storm.
A few feet away Cara sobbed brokenly, her perfect white clothes stained with mud, her hands cuffed behind her back.
At the end of the road, the flashing blue lights of the ambulance lit up the night. Relief loosened the tightness in Harper’s chest.
“Hang in there,” she told Hunter. “You’re going to be fine.”
* * *
Miles arrived just a
s the paramedics were loading Hunter onto a stretcher. By then, Southby had separated and handcuffed Cara and Allegra, and secured the house. He did a damn good job on his own, Harper thought, bagging the gun, taking her statement. Working methodically.
“I think I underestimated you,” she told him, as she watched him lock the mansion’s front door and seal it with crime tape.
“Everyone does,” he said. But he smiled.
A paramedic gave Harper wipes to get the blood off her hands. “Works better than soap,” she assured her, before hurrying back to the ambulance.
While Miles got busy taking pictures, she kept trying to call the newsroom, but her phone had no signal.
“It’s the storm,” Southby told her, rain dripping from the plastic cover on his hat. “Cell tower’s out.”
Harper glanced at her watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock and Baxter had no idea what had happened out here, or that the paper had an exclusive front-page story on its hands.
She ran over to where Miles was checking shots on his camera. “I’m heading back to Savannah. How much longer will you be out here?”
Clutching his Canon in one hand, he looked around, frowning. “Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?”
“Okay. I’ll see you back there.” She hurried away, boots splashing in the water.
“Drive carefully,” he called after her. “The road’s starting to flood.”
It was a relief to get into the car and turn the heater on. Harper hadn’t realized how cold she was until she began to get warm again. She was soaked to the skin.
The winds had let up a little, but the rain was still falling hard when she crossed the bridge off the island and into the marshes. In her mind she kept going over the night’s events, hearing Cara’s terrified scream, as if she’d been shot instead of Hunter.
She could see now how she’d pieced it all together last night at the Library. When Allegra dedicated the song to the love of her life, Cara had known her well enough to know she’d meant it. From there, she’d figured out the rest. Everything she hadn’t wanted to see unfolded in front of her.
Harper wanted to believe Allegra when she’d said she hadn’t meant to kill Xavier. She didn’t know why she’d taken a gun to the beach, though. Maybe she wanted to scare him. Maybe, like so many people, she simply underestimated the power of a bullet.
Revolver Road Page 26
